


Brian 510 gapfiller

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Gap Filler, No Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-18
Updated: 2005-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: I've written two 510 gap-fillers that cover the same time period, and basically have the same plotline, but one is told from Brian's perspective and the other is told from Justin's. Beyond that, these gap-fillers are NOT connected in any way- I simply had two different ways I wanted to tell this story. One was written many months ago, after I'd been spoiled to 510, and the other was written more recently after I'd actually seen a small part of a 510 screener. I vacillated back and forth as to which I would post and finally decided to post them both. Obviously, there are spoilers through 510.





	Brian 510 gapfiller

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian POV

_"I remember a time when I came so close with you._  
Then I let everything go- it seemed the only truth.  
What makes me think I can start clean-slated?  
The hardest to learn was the least complicated..." 

I held him for a long time while the EMTs moved noisily around us and the heavy, acrid smell of charcoal hung in the air. There'd been a time when I'd convinced myself that all I wanted was for him to disappear. Now I was terrified he would, so I clung to him as if I could prevent it, as if I still thought I had that kind of power. Finally, he was the one to end the embrace and pull away. That was a new development, him wanting distance from me, and I didn't like it but I understood. Saying 'I love you' doesn't really change anything, and Sunshine knew it.

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, not ready to totally break contact with him yet, and steered him towards my limo.

"Come on," I told him, "I'll get you home."

His exhaustion was so sudden, and settled so leadenly into his limbs, that all he could do was sag against me and nod silently, but on the way to the car, he perked up a little and looked around. 

"Where is she?"

"Who, Justin?"

"The EMT who lent me her jacket," he started removing it, despite the plunging temperatures. "I need to give it back to her."

I stopped his hands, forcing his eyes to meet mine.

"I'll take care of it, Justin," I assured him. "I'll make sure she gets it back."

What I didn't tell him is that I would have it cleaned, pressed and returned anonymously with a wad of bills in the pocket. She had helped Justin when I wasn't there to do it myself, and she would be rewarded for it whether she wanted it or not.

I helped him into the back of the car, climbed in behind him, and leaned over the seat to tell the driver Justin's address when I suddenly realized. I laughed out loud, although I couldn't have pinned down why it was so funny.

"What?" he asked in a tired voice.

I turned and looked at his smoke-smudged face. Even filthy, with blood matting the right side of his head, he was beautiful.

"I don't know where the fuck you live," I said. Turns out, that really wasn't funny after all, and I stopped laughing.

His eyes softened as he stared into me, and with a prickle of hair standing up on the back of my neck, I saw him again at 17 - young, vulnerable, scared and needing. So much needing in such a slight form. 

He had always been a force of nature.

"Can we go to...?"

He held me spellbound with those four plaintive words until finally, with a sudden wash of relief, I told the driver to take us back to the loft. 

The ride home was silent but for his even breathing and the overwhelming sound of blood rushing in my ears. He stared out the window and I stared at him. 

I'd been stupid. I'd let him slip away so many times when all it would have taken was to reach out and touch him. He'd even told me how to do it, showed me by example, and all I'd ever done was scoff and pull away. It felt very late. 

He pulled himself out of the car at the curb in front of the loft, but once in the elevator, he leaned on me again and seemed unable or unwilling to carry his own full weight. I was happy to be his legs; I'd have fucking carried him, if I'd thought he'd let me. Instead, I walked him to the door, unlocked it and lead him inside. His eyes took in the sameness of it, as if it barely mattered to him at all that he was back here. I knew it was his exhaustion and shock that was keeping him from reacting, but my heart squeezed just a little bit, anyway.

I pulled him into the bedroom and across the floor to the bathroom. I reached into the shower stall, my right hand still clasping his tightly, and turned on the water. Then I gently began undressing him. He was pliant and drowsy, barely raising his arms enough to let me pull off his shirt.

When he was naked, I steered him under the hot spray and watched him show the first signs of life since we'd left the parking lot of Babylon. He lifted his face to the spray, letting it cascade down over his closed eyes.

I quickly stripped and stepped in behind him. Reaching around him to take the washcloth from the towel bar, I was almost overcome with gratitude when I felt him settle his body against mine, but I hadn't brought him back here to fuck him. He was a mess, and for the first time in my life, I wanted nothing else but to take care of him, to give him what he needed without thinking first about what I might need. 

I soaped the cloth and then dragged it carefully over his skin, working up a soft, thick lather. I was shocked and sickened by the scrapes and bruises dotting his usally flawless skin. I tended to each one, a reminder that every injury done to him was my responsibility, somehow. When I reached around and washed his chest and down his abs, his dick twitched, but that was all. I squashed my disappointment. Feeling rejected was a self-indulgence I didn't deserve, so I just scrubbed him thoroughly, silently. Turning him to face me, I dabbed the cloth to his cheeks, forehead, chin and temples, washing away the soot and blood. 

"Close your eyes and tilt your head back."

He did so compliantly, his hands gripping my shoulders for support, and let the water rinse the soap away. I wanted to kiss him, to dip my head and lick his neck where it stretched under the showerhead, but I ignored the impulse.

I turned him again and squirted a blob of shampoo in my hand. Gently scrubbing the blood and grime from his hair, I heard him mumble in approval, his head falling back onto my shoulder, his round bottom pressing up against me. I finished my task, wondering vaguely where the Brian Kinney who would have followed his dick right into Justin's ass had gone. I didn't care. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was here.

I rinsed his hair, swiped the soap over my own face and body briefly, and turned the water off. I lead him to the bedroom with a thick towel wrapped around his shoulders and patted him dry. He pulled back the duvet and I helped him slide into bed. He sighed contentedly, his eyes closed, and rolled away from me, lying on his side with his hands curled under his chin like a small, sleepy child. 

I pretended my heart didn't stutter again in rejection, toweled myself off, and slipped in behind him.

His breathing was deep, even, but after years of listening to him sleep, I knew he was still awake. I didn't try to touch him, though I longed to. I closed my eyes and tried to still the nightmare images swirling around in my head of Babylon, crumbled and burned, Mikey's slack face, Debbie hysterical.

Justin was safe. I was more grateful for that than anything else, and I tried to focus only on that. There would be time later to figure out what had happened and what could be done for the families of those lost.

"Justin," I said softly, "I know you being here doesn't mean you want to move back in with me, or even get back together, and I understand why. But I'm glad you're here, now, anyway."

I rolled away from him, turning my face to the wall and praying for quick sleep. I could feel tears trying to leak out of my eyes and I was too tired and too bruised to stop them. When he rolled back towards me and his weight shifted closer, I held still. It was suddenly very important to me that he know _I_ knew I couldn't fuck this away for either of us, though that has always been my most effective escape.

I was barely breathing by the time he reached his hand out to stroke my shoulder, arm and down my back. Then he was there, pressed along the length of my body, his shape warm and familiar, comforting, his arms wrapping around me. He clutched at me desperately, and I rolled to face him, folding him as close to me as I could manage.

"I love you, too, Brian," he breathed as he slipped into sleep.

"I know, Sunshine," I whispered into his hair, "I get it, now."

When I woke hours later, he was gone.


End file.
